


Echoes of Shadow

by DragonHeartstring360



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8334913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonHeartstring360/pseuds/DragonHeartstring360
Summary: A short drabble taking place after the fourth book (so beware of spoilers), elaborating on Murtagh and Thorn's lives exploring the wilderness and the bond between them now that the king is dead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Request: Murtagh and Thorn, post Inheritance–finally able to truly experience the Bond of Dragon and Rider–free from Galbatorix’s control. ~ Requests are open in my inbox here or on Tumblr @murtagh-thorn. Thanks for the read :) ~
> 
> Warnings: none that I can think of?
> 
> Pairings: none; maybe Nasuada x Murtagh if you really squint.

It had been a year since Murtagh and Thorn had left Uru’baên—or Ilirea, as they’d heard it called now. A year since they’d left Eragon and Saphira standing in the sea of nettles.

A storm had moved in as the sun had been setting, so they’d opted for taking shelter in a large cave high up in a cliff side. Thorn had flown in and Murtagh had managed to create a small fire in the center. Rain poured down over the cave mouth in sheets, the occasional streak of lighting whitening the sky, punctuated by thunder. Murtagh could feel it rumble in his chest as he lay propped up against Thorn’s side, just watching the storm. 

Shadows of the empire had always clouded both Murtagh’s and Thorn’s lives and thoughts, bleeding through to taint their bond. Murtagh had had a taste of freedom, however small. Thorn had been enslaved from birth. Both were angry and only fed each other’s anger through their mental bond. They’d shared and fueled in each other’s despair, especially when Murtagh was forced to torture Nasuada. Thorn had never felt such deep agony in his Rider and had felt helpless, having no experience in the ways of comfort. 

Galbatorix was dead, but the echoes of the shadow still remained. Both of them felt unmeasurable anger, abandonment and guilt. It had gotten better over time, but they still weren’t ready to return. Soon, but not now. Besides, both of them enjoyed exploring the wild, answering to no one. Of course, there were still rulers in the realms they went to, but they did no more than pass through. They’d seen overgrown ruins of places that Murtagh had never even seen on a map; the edge of the ocean; they’d even dared to explore Vroengard (with necessary protections, of course). Thorn had found the snaglí delicious, after they’d been forced to kill it after it had attacked Murtagh. He’d been about to use the Ancient Language to attempt to calm the creature when Thorn had swooped in and roasted it. He’d sniffed and given it a few test-licks before snapping it up in his jaws. Murtagh had stared at him, agape, before reminding his dragon that killing wasn’t the go-to option. It had turned an almost numerous moment sad, that they both resorted to violence first—something that had been a necessity for most of their lives, especially Thorn’s. Both had been working on their diplomatic skills, but they’d both stayed away from conversation and deep relationships for so long, that Murtagh wasn’t sure how good their skills even were. 

Murtagh wanted to visit the place where Eragon had said Oromis and Glaedr had lived as a sort of closure. But the thought only made him overridden with guilt and anger. Besides, the majority of elves probably hated him for killing their loved Rider and forcing his dragon into his eldunarí. 

Thorn hummed and gently bumped his nose against Murtagh’s shoulder, attempting to turn his thoughts more pleasant. His dragon had been a great comfort, although the red beast was just as insecure as his Rider. No words were needed between them; just each other’s presence. Thorn had really grown in the past year. He still had his demons, just like Murtagh, but in his Rider’s presence, he now showed intelligence and insight that impressed even Murtagh often. He had developed a sarcastic side too that never failed to make him laugh. His nature had grown kinder and more gentle over time, although the few times they’d conversed with other people, he kept mainly to himself. He enjoyed deep conversations while his Rider was on his back and Murtagh enjoyed them just as much. 

As for Murtagh, he was still healing. As was Thorn, but he’d been bouncing back surprisingly well. He was a tad more optimistic than Murtagh. Of course he’d suffered abuse from Galbatorix, but he was an evil tyrant. That sort of behavior was expected from someone as vile as him. Murtagh had suffered abuse and betrayal from even his parents, people who were supposed to have loved him. No one had understood how he’d been forced into his situation and had branded him evil and a traitor. And on top of all that, Galbatorix playing with him daily and forcing him to torture Nasuada, someone he held high respect for. Someone who might never be able to forgive him, never be comfortable in his presence again. 

Again, Thorn nudged his shoulder, a gentle exhale out his nose tousling Murtagh’s hair. He reached over to rub his dragon’s jaw, turning his eyes once more to the storm outside. Both of them were unsure how much longer they’d need to heal, but both found solace in the fact that they were getting closer.


End file.
